Malkavian Diaries
by Vixi-Vampiress
Summary: Short documentaries on what a Malkavian would say if asked. A few ingame jokes, but no storykillers and if you haven’t played VTM it’s just a fun read for the laughter of insanity. Rated T for mild sexual references in later chapters, nothing more.
1. Conoscenza

**Short documentaries on what a Malkavian would say if asked. A few in-game jokes, but no story-killers and if you haven't played VTM it's just a fun read for the laughter of insanity. By the way, I love languages, so each title is in a random language, just for fun. Maybe a Malkavian would know lots of languages anyway, just to confuse non-Malkavians… **

**Conoscenza (Knowledge)**

_This malcontent of the back has not long confronted my well-being but yet pesters me so during the course of the black sky. Oh, but such colours we see in the sky of noir, the sky of moi, my mind sanctuary of roses that bleed in merciless fancies all coiled and twisted together as three. One, three, one, no difference- all same. Desire, my friend, haha oh treacherous salmon. Voluptuous aching or longing, no aching. Ow. The chimpanzee asleep behind me grasps a heat of sun rays dancing amidst my mind of play things for lustful, gluttonous devils. _

_Readers, my sanity dwindles upon many little white pills, but have no fear- for blood runs thick in the vastly scrupulous oceans of vanity. Not my blood, for the blood of me is spilt. I am dead to those yet alive to others, but for want of nirvanial bliss I pray to oppressing spirits of agony to relieve me. Oh, me. Confronting crimson glow about my person, stabbing and exposing the faults and twinges. Don't deny your knowledge, the light engulfs you but you are indifferent to the very walls of its stomach. Ha! What light? Now eternally lie in darkness, let its evil seduce you through the verses of power and accented crushing of love-birds a-tweeting._

_Life, Death- we are the same song and the words read the same from every mouth and lips of humankind and kindred alike. The dark will shield you and prevent such observations of minor delusions from entities of bestial insight, more than the view of hellish politicians destined to a set fate of lies and misery. I catch an essence of mistrust in your calling, yet help will not deliver- for your journey is one of solitude to bring about the being of arcane mysteries in shadow. _

_Seek not what you believe, for what you believe seeketh not you._


	2. Offeret av Kjærlighet

**Offeret av Kjærlighet (Love's Sacrifice)**

_Why are your eyes leaking? Let me be your plumber. Why is your mind hurting? Let me be your aspirin. Why is your heart showering mine with a rain of crimson hatred? Let me be the plaster, let me heal our wounds with the cloud we sit upon in my dreams of endearing perfections. One of my personalities tells me in retrospect to forever put out the piercing flames of the woe-begotten memory, but for what purpose? Says I, the organism of low magnitude. The fire of memory, it seems, cannot be put out without the aid of another cooking utensil- he who I dream of, he who is my ebony prince and I who be his ivory princess._

_Wounded is he, beyond ivory vocabulary, by same ashened-faced whore, the split of the two. Separate is she, yet blinded and bound, locked away in a tower of long-hated jail. Ivory turns to mahogany, deep, rich mahogany red as repentance for her crimes but my prince hurts increasingly as I, kindred of M, turns redder still. Why does my prince hurt so? Let me be his safety net to catch him as he falls through the torn canvas of his illusive mind. Stitches cannot heal the canvas but can help mend the pain a small amount._

_The stuffs dreams are made of- laser-powered tyrannosaurus rexs? - are not what is in the box... But the box shall stay closed. No intervenance from daughter of Lucifer shall corrupt nor shelve the accordance of events in maybe just a pinch of manic infestation of hatred. I wish I could travel between H and J to lay my eyes on my ebony prince one more time, my eyes would salivate for all eternity's losses to see him one more time before my insanity diverts my ears to matters of lesser circumference._

_So let me be your plumber, your aspirin, your plaster and your ivory princess. Let our cloud protect us both and let us run free, ebony and ivory as one forever… Jeg elsker De…_


	3. Sueño de día

**Sueño de día (Daydreaming)**

_Long wandering reveries interrupt my psyche but a memory of twisted mumblings prevails to provide, at length, my decay in robes of displeasure and gold. Burning embers fly low yet cinders drop so brightly from ashen skies of fate like dew to grass on a cold wretch. Each package a mob of bombs awaiting exposure to the hell of savagery, but yet not as seemingly frozen in warmth as they appear to expand. Sweet yet false smiles are a hazard to the whales of a night horse, galloping its way through the gates of an elven warrior._

_Forgiveness is the name of the game but what to forgive when to proceed with the gracious delicacies that spread through the outworld? White dots on a green carcass reveal their origins so hidden, so secret. Why for this? For this, the green is fading but the white shines through to clamour hope and prophetic glory in the arms of the beheld. Harmonies attract the cynical, monophonic for the gullible, and the rest are sent to a limbo of suicidal tendencies all wrought up in the eyes of a child, never sleeping, always seeing_

_My body quivers at length in view of your rugged defiance and arrogant laughter that runs rings around the gossamer of a pig's veil. Sense of fury awoken, I smile lowly at my avenging homicidal amplifications. Oh beware, but let YOUR senses fail to recognise my stealthy betrayal of societal conduct of what is good and legal. My nearest traitor cannot perceive that smirk dancing on the brink of my possession who is swimming in a reddened puddle of dripping daisies all dampened and soggy with celestial impurities_

_I am gone in a cloud of epicurean charm, bolted in a jot of haste and alacrity to unearth the wraithlike inclinations of a fooled sheep upon whose eyes have been forced sightless and empty to a globe of despondency. Emotive expression of sorrow, I can never subsist to vivacity in rouged wrists and yellowed fingernails to travel on the outspread wings of a pterodactyl of the Jurassic callings of a multitude. Leave be the precedent to give rise to the imminent prosperities of our optimism. Our optimism. Ours. Yours. Mine. Ours._


	4. Lesbierin

**Lesbierin (I'll leave you to guess )**

_So long were her passions spent upon her, yes, she, the one of sexual wrath and tyranny. The marvel of she is found upon the lips of many a Cainite and non-Cainite lover in the darkened crescent of a waxing moon. When arisen she cries in pale shades of longing till her submitter arrives to submit to the will of rosyln desires a-flowing in scarlet mysteries of power. Save her thus, buy her black robes and white robes all burnt and frayed about the middle, and there you'll see her lust, her true nature._

_Her preference sighs in layers of sheets aside her partner, the girl, the lover, the vampyre. Three maids for her servants- oh but what fervour! A-top of the mountainous hills of flesh we find her tongue, her fangs, and her mouth to slide slowly to crown the peak of the hill with a poisoned kiss of razor blades. Cut, slice- she opens her upper mouth to speak but is lost in exhalation, her other slaves chained to their posts, writhing to the delicious sounds of betrayal, envy and bestial courtship. Oh, and she sings tunes of beauty and passion astride the rhythm of she that she beholds_

_The course of her violent urrings, unrequited to her skilled ability of strenuous pleasures of the mind, slows her body, her soul. Their souls unite in the boundaries of a legion, avaricious demons perturbing vanity embrace their united souls and hold them tight, vanquishing their beings, snatching and scratching and seizing corrupted messengers who seek chaste angels of proceeding unchastely phenomenons._

_Those neither corrupt nor pure of heart fully clothe their person in robes of seduction to force their hearts to beat to the poetic pulsation and climatic passions in their chamber of sunsets and hurricanes. So cynical lie the rest of the world while the submitters die of euphorical infections. Let them alone children, for you have so much to learn from the oppressed of our world._


	5. Prostituert og Slutten av Verdenen

**Prostituert og Slutten av Verdenen (believe it or not- Prostitutes and the end of the world)**

_Sloping hills drive and slide to look for her most carnal death, yet her self-indulgent precedence coerces her on, on to the end of a terminal world at the end of its perseverance. Short gone but waiting are the beasts of sensibility who invoke demons to her throne of mercenary bone and nails. Those nails slash freely at thine corpse of humanity, further slipping down that slope, further sliding down to become what you despise with passions aloof that star you know. You know them, for aeons they have burned in the hells of exuberance, and never to extinguish their beings even after her being, our being, and your being is gone._

_Oh cease this reckless cycle! For lustful whores to drag her down, our minds are playthings to their fancies! Bleeding white statues of marble chip crash upon the crème de la crème of perceivèd beauty, whose eyes, mouths, bodies, limbs shall smash against the sordid shore of mankind to urr terror upon the inane, fear among the wretched and cast away the damned._

_The damned are my muses, they twirl and spiral in versatile wraths all covered in gold, trickery and lies at their highest levels, bound for a prideless, cold and hateful hell where eyeless hounds bark and bleed for forgiveness of the master. Their howls cannot save their souls, for their souls are lost forever. Devour restless equations of unravelling shapes of integrity; take from them the very core of sleeping on justice to make ends, beginning and middles meet, each till the end of our story._

_Send us to a blissful abyss of nothing ness from whence we came, rather than to a fiery mouthful of hateful reveries and terrors of the night where that creature would bind us to gaols in visionless chasms for massacre. Follow her to her chamber, ah but not meet her purity, for innocence cannot be met in the chamber of a whore, at an evanescent terminal of our world. Not ours. But on the second coming we'll see the innocence unfurl._


End file.
